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"The Physician mixed the pellets with the tar, and it began to bubble and spark. It quickly lit itself on fire, its flame a deep red color."
"'Is that intentional?' Said a quiet voice from the corner."
"Both the Stranger and Physician looked to the source of the sound. A terrified maid crouched in the corner, watching as embers flew from the pot on the table and into the air."
"'Don't worry.' Said the Physician, 'I have this all under control.'"
"As he said this, a particularly nasty spark popped and sent the pot a good distance into the air. He quickly caught it and put it back down, cursing his briefly burned hands."
"'Perhaps,' rasped the Stranger, hood up. 'You should fetch some water, in a bucket.'"
"'That would be a good idea.' The Physician said, nervously. 'It is sparking a lot more than usual.'"
"The maid nodded, and rushed out of the room."
"'It's sparking a lot more than usual.' The Physician sounded worried."
"'Perhaps it dislikes me.' Suggested the Stranger."
"'Can't be.' He replied. 'I must have done something wrong.'"
"'How inauspicious.' Said the Stranger, and he contemplated for some time this thought. But it led to naught, and when the maid returned with a large bucket of cold water the Physician made sure to cool the remains of the sparking mass."
"'There. Now we just need to grind it up and dissolve it.' Said the Physician. And he took a mortar and pestle, and dropped the slightly-wet ash that remained from the spectacle. It powdered even more than before when he was done, and almost seemed to repel itself, skittering along into distance-delineated spots."
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"The Physician swallowed his concerns, for a man who had endured such a nightmare would know it much better than he could. He gathered together what ingredients he needed, and lit a small fire in the hearth. He hung silvery pots and bottles, glass baubles and wires, and strange spinning contraptions."
"The Room was adorned for eating. A set of extra-long wooden tables, with cloth-covered chairs on either side. It was a smaller dining room, for the nobler lords and ladies, when the king himself was not to be present. Presently it sat empty, a cold and empty pair of hearths gaping into the unoccupied room."
"The Stranger and he watched as a liquid rose from the beginning and slowly began to flow through and distill."
"As it boiled and twisted, the Kings Physician placed a small wooden board on one of the long wooden tables in the room. He arranged a set of herbs in arcane patterns, then slowly ground them up, careful not to smudge the lines. They glowed softly as he scraped them into a pile, then poured them into a metal strainer."
"He poured boiling water into the strainer, and an odd, yellow liquid dripped out."
"He carefully deconstructed the contraption on the fire, leaving the final bottle full of its black tar. He rearranged the components, and slowly poured the yellow fluid into the start. It would it's way up hot glass spirals, faster and faster as it boiled."
"At the very end, small red pellets dropped out of a pan that was shaking itself."
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"Sparrow brought the Kings Physician in a hurry. And in a hurry they came. The stranger was not rushed at all-it moved like it had all the time in the world."
"When the physician had caught his breath, he spoke."
"'May I see your face? The hood blocks too much, and I must know how your face looks to treat you properly.'"
"The Stranger asked, 'May I do so alone?'"
"The physician agreed to the request. 'My King, may we use one of the spare rooms near the kitchens?'"
"'My halls are always open to you.' Replied the King. 'The Green Room has been cleaned recently.'"
"'Then that is perfect for us.' Said the Physician, and he led the Stranger with him through the halls. They drew stares, and whisperes. Some thought it was a victim of plague, others of some gruesome curse. They both could not be further from the truth."
"The Stranger didn't dare slip off his hood until well after the door was shut, and locked at his insistence."
"'Very well. But there is little you can do to help.' Said the Stranger as he slipped off his hood. 'I simply require some tincture for my throat this evening.'"
"The Physician stared, petrified as he looked on upon the monstrous visage. It was dead bones and withered skin, and full and living white hair. It coughed, and some blood spattered out."
"It was unconcerned, even as the Physician took nearly a minute to recover himself. 'Gods, what happened to you.'"
"'Many a spell gone wrong, in my younger days.' The Monster smiled slightly, a hideous picture as his skin cracked. 'I have lived quite long.'"
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"What do you think she's reading?" Whispered Ilma.
"Kings and Queens," replied Maeve.
"What's that about?"
"Well, Kings and Queens, obviously. But it's an informative text on the different king and queen styles. Like Emperor, Empress, if you know what I mean?"
"I don't really."
"Well, they wrote about how different places in the world have different kinds of King--like we have the Lords council, on the Sword coast, and the King and his Court in Cormyr. The Emperor and his Empress for the ancient empire that held sway down south."
"So it's a book about how rulers rule?"
"That works."
"That sounds like it could be really interesting."
"If you want I could read out loud, you know." The Noble said, catching both secretives off guard. "Also, you are really bad at whispering quietly dear."
Ilma winced. "Sure?"
"Come over here if you want to see the pictures in the text."
Ilma got up in a hurry. Maeve remained seated and reopened her book.
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"Why?"
"Because we already had a few guides experienced in the upperdark, and we already knew a few viable routes. The Fey was a large gamble, comparatively."
"That seems silly. Why would they do something risky if they had a simple solution there?"
"I don't know." Replied Maeve. "But I do not think they even considered it. I don't believe they knew so many of their guards knew the upperdark well. I didn't, of course, that was my first time entering anything deeper than a local iron mine. But a good third of their guards had traveled through there at one point."
"And they didn't know?"
"I don't think they did."
"That's a shame."
"For sure."
The shadows in the clearing slowly lengthened, and the two sat together as Maeve read out the passages of the King of the Hens. Across from them, a noble in a red dress sat across from them, also deep into a book of her own choosing. It's cover was a duller, darker red than her dress. It was gilded thoroughly, and looked very well preserved. Crisp parchment crinkled as she turned the pages, and the bright coloring was top-tier.
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"You didn't like it?"
"I felt very out of place there."
"How so?"
"I am too used to the inanimate trees around here. The Fey made me paranoid." Maeve shrugged. "After a few of the guards thought a stick was a pixie and tried to kill it for hours without success the leader decided it would be best to take the next portal out."
"Why were you traveling the fey then?"
"Travel is much faster there, with a guide or favor. Neither was really in our favor."
"So you left?"
"Yes."
"Did anything else interesting happen on the trip?"
"We traveled through the upperdark." Maeve said. "It was quite tame in comparison."
"Why in the gods name would you do that?"
"This was back in 1200, when there was the minor bandit kingdom, if you remember that?"
"I do." Said Ilma. "You avoided them by going under them?"
"Yes."
"Crazy."
"It worked quite well. It should have been our original plan, if I had had a say."
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"At first it didn't look very different. But you could always tell you were in the fey. Things were just a little off. The grass was too tall, or too green, or moved without the wind. You would walk along a path, and come up behind your own wheeltracks."
"How could you get anywhere?"
"With a very good guide." Replied Maeve. "Which the group didn't have. We struggled through until we got near the first village, and they sent a younger Elf to help us along. I wouldn't bet on that alone, though. It's too risky."
"Yeah. You could die of starvation inches from a plant."
Maeve nodded. "Nighttime was terrifying at first. Lights in the forest, trying their damnedest to draw you away into the night. Nobody fell for it in the entire train, everyone had been spooked by the wagon tracks."
"So that actually happened to you?"
"Yes. It was a very, very silent afternoon."
"Did you see any fey creatures?"
"Nary a one." Said Maeve. "Not a single one that you would not see here. Elves, for sure, sprites, but nothing else of the fair folk. I suspect there was good reason for that, but I thought it best not to ask."
"How did you fare?"
"I felt out of place, for sure." Said Maeve, "just like everyone else. And a bit vulnerable, but it was only a few days journey."
"Did you fight anything?"
"No, we never had to defend ourselves. Thankfully."
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"Do they do everything like this?" Asked Maeve as Ilma sat back down next to her.
"Sometimes." Admitted the Scout. "But if it's anything important the old guy steps in and makes sure everything works out."
They sat in silence for a moment, Maeve slowly turning pages, before the Scout spoke again.
"Have you been far?"
Maeve gave up on reading, and closed the book on a small flat piece of metal. "I have been to many places. But haven't you as well?"
"I haven't managed to go much further than the coast." She admitted. "Most of the groups I attach to don't travel very far. There's a lot of demand for a good scout around here. A lot of groups, not a lot of people who can move about safely."
"They pay a lot?"
"Too much for me to want to give it up and go elsewhere just yet."
"Well, then I suppose I have some stories for you." Said Maeve, leaning forwards, then back as she shifted positions. "Now, where would you like to hear about?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've been almost everywhere, dear."
"You've been to the Fey?"
"For sure." Said Maeve. "We walked through a portal of vines, deep in a forest near the middle of Faerûn. They glowed softly, the only warning that it was any different than it seemed. On the other side, it was sunny and warm. Golden light. The door was in shadows. I remember wishing that it had caught them, for it would have been quite pretty on this side."
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"None?"
"None that I have read. I've seen allusions to a very, very old tale, the... Shattered Hourglass, but I haven't seen anything besides two mentions in crumbling books."
"The Shattered Hourglass?"
"I believe it describes an adventurer breaking into Chronepsis' lair and stealing their hourglass, which made them immortal?" Maeve sounded very uncertain. "There really isn't much to go on."
"So you think the dragon god of death is involved in the King of Hens?"
"I cannot think who else it would be. I'm sure it could be any old dracolich, but I very much doubt a simple dracolich involved themselves in time travel and the fate of a King. A dracolich would probably just take over."
"That is true."
"Any thoughts from you?"
"I think I want to read your alternate version for myself." Said the Scout. "Maybe on a night we break."
"Or a day."
"A day? Isn't it difficult to read in a cart? And wouldn't you be working?"
"Yes, it is a little difficult, but I can do it. I don't..." Maeve paused. "Were you here when they decided to travel at night?"
"Ah, no. No I was not." Said Ilma. "Dear thinskin." She called.
"What." Grumbled the man who had initially recruited Maeve. "And don't call me that."
"Then don't have such thin skin. Did you ask me whether I would accept traveling at night?"
"No."
"I want extra."
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"That's a terrifying image. Just short of a lich." Said Ilma, the scout.
"It's familiar..." Maeve muttered, wracking her brain. "Too familiar."
"I don't get any sense of familiarity at all."
"Dragon, dragon, dead dragon, prophecy... Gods damn it all."
"Fate?"
Maeve's remembered. "Chronepsis."
"Who?"
"Chronepsis. Null. Dragon god of death and undeath, the inevitability of time. That's a description of Chronepsis."
"I have never heard of him."
"You wouldn't have. He isn't active, and doesn't have a temple following, or clerics at all."
"Not active?"
"The Reaver is disconcerned with the mortal realms."
"Is this the only tale of the Reaver?"
"There are legends of his presence during Eclipses."
"I haven't heard them."
"Horrible tales. Where the Reaver and his followers would kill until the eclipse ended. Then they would tally the bodies and select the most deadly as their high priest." Maeve looked unhappy. "No tales with the Reaver end pleasantly."
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"Do you mind if I watch?" Maeve jumped as a small woman spoke from behind her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Watch what?"
"You read. Is that an interesting book."
"More confusing. You wouldn't happen to have a copy of The King of Hens, would you?"
"No, I do not. And I don't think anyone else here does. But I do have the gist of it."
"Well, I've been reading this." Maeve flipped a page forwards, then back. "And it's got a copy of The King of the Hens. But it's different than I remember."
"How so?"
"Well, the prophecy is there." Maeve pointed. "That is different. And some of the ending, mostly fluff. And over here."
"I've never seen that before."
"Me either. Is that a description of the Stranger?"
"I think it is." Maeve read the passage out loud.
"For the King stared in horror at the Stranger's visage. Dull, grey scales were flaking and cracked apart, outlining its mostly-human face. It looked nothing like a dragonborn, no horns, no wings, narrow face. And yet it was still covered in dead and dying scales. Whatever color they might have been in the past was far, far behind them. The Strangers mouth remained open a crack, and it breathed through the gap. It coughed, and black phlegm dripped from it's nostrils and mouth."
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Maeve opened the book again, to it's copy of The King of the Hens, presently masquerading as the fourth chapter.
Odd. This doesn't line up with what I remember at all. Thought Maeve, turning the pages. I mean, it's mostly correct, but that prophecy, it's longer than I remember.
But I don't have a written copy of the original. Maeve sighed from the shaded corner of the shared clearing. At least copies of bards tales are easy enough to find.
An excerpt from Clarity of Law, the Prophecy from the King of Hens
For once was a king who ruled all the land,
who waved his way with his welcome hand,
and stood calm and cared, with his loyal band
And though he did swagger and brandish his wine
he told a tale of how he defeated a swine
and yet, that wasn't enough to hold him, in time
But then he went quiet, did the king of the land
and he realized no-one had heard him, not even his Hand,
not even the largest, most clever of his band.
For the King of the Hens was his name to be,
For that's all he could see--feathers in hand,
and that's all he could rule over--that and a bee.'
It's in sets of three, not two. And much harder to interpret. I remember, the childrens tale was a simple fable. Don't brag. This... is more grimm than I expected.
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"The cloaked figure answered the King, in a heavy, raspy voice. It was as dry as a desert, and as rough as ones sands. 'I've come a long way for a story, my dear king.'"
"'Then you will be welcome to join me and my subjects this evening, for our daily dinner celebration. There will be stories aplenty.' Said the King."
"'Then I. Shall make sure. To arrive on time.' Rasped the figure. It then took several steps back, and began to admin the massive claw."
"'What manner of beast. Grew this?' It wondered out loud."
"'A gigantic horror.' Replied the King. 'That burned itself to death upon our walls. It is a wondrous and heroic tale.'"
"'I am, most interested.' The figure coughed, a harsh, abrupt and painful sound."
"'Are you injured?' Asked the King, alarmed and concerned."
"'Not in body.' Answered the figure. 'But. If I may ask. For a physician.'"
"'Then that wish shall be granted. Sparrow?'"
"'I will have him fetched.' And so Sparrow did. The youngest of the Kings personal guard was sent off for his physician, and the cloaked figure stepped over to the side of the room without apparent difficulty. It sat down slowly on a small stool, left in the corner some time ago by a careless servant, or a playful child."
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"Not quite a year had passed when the mysterious adventurer stepped foot into the Kings hall, but it was quite the auspicious date. It was the one-year anniversary of when the seer had gone missing."
"They were dressed in black robes, many layers, that seemed to whisper with the small breezes that drafted through the stone halls. It carried a wooden staff with it, wherever it went, topped with a glittering pink crystal."
"When the guards asked at the gate, it claimed to be a wizard of some sort, and a human. But the guards didn't raise its hood, for fear or for laze, and in it walked."
"It wandered about aimlessly, as if it didn't know nor care where it was going. It drifted through the guest halls, as they fell silent around it. It drifted through the bannered corridors, where the guards trained, and it was left alone. And it went into the main dining room, where the claw hung on the wall in all its savage glory."
"It ghosted to the ornament and paused looking upwards. And it just so happened..." The Bard trailed off. "That the King had taken that moment to admire his feat. And he felt proud, and strong, and was inattentive. And so the tap of one, gloved hand caught him by surprise."
"'Hello, Stranger.' Said the King. 'For what do you require my attention?'"
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"For even as the bravehearted messengers took to the paths on quick feat, the King climbed down from the wall, eager to grab a trophy from the beast. He deftly descended the ladder he had climbed, and pushed open a small wallgate. Before him lay the burning remains of the creature, its bones unscorched by the Wildfire even as the grass itself had been burned away. Smoke rose haphazardly from the remains, a puff here, a puff there."
"He walked over cautiously, checking before each step that there was no latent fire waiting to catch to him. At first he went for a big bone, the massive leg bone, but he couldn't even budge it. He tried again, and again. But the bone just would not budge. Thinking to himself, he sauntered over to some of the smaller bones."
"The King's eyes lit up when he saw the massive claws of the creature. Somehow they had survived Wildfire, and that made them perfect. One of those hanging in his halls would bring glory and awe to his halls for years to come. So the king grabbed the massive thing, this big," the Bard made an expansive gesture, "and lifted it onto his back. He carried the huge, heavy claw into the city. People gathered, witnessing the spectacle."
"And when it was finally hung in his castle, it drew the eyes and ears of many a foreign king, and many an adventurer."
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"The King and his fellows counted. One! Two! Heave! and they threw the barrel over the wall! They quickly rushed to get a second one ready, the King himself the only man who watched the throw. It sailed through the air peaceful and unthreatening, like a powder cart, before it impacted the creatures massive leg. The Keg exploded, and bright red flames began to eat at it. They were easily separable from the monsters own flames. He watched as they spread rapidly. They burst into sparks, soared into pyres, and sprayed off like drops of liquid metal."
"Far down below, the falling ashes and molten flame that managed to reach the ground had ignited the ashes that the monster had left in its wake. They roared up in grey flame. The King drew a hand with an eye with his finger over his heart."
"'Belay the next.' Interrupted the King. 'That may have been enough.'"
"They watched as the creature struggled, screaming and screeching in ear-writhing tones. The archers never slacked off their efforts, but the oil-throwers had stopped before they threw Wildfire, to avoid dangerous flashback, where the horrible animated terror would climb up the streams of very flammable liquid and catch the walltops aflame."
"It took nearly ten minutes to die, but even before it gave its final throes of death the King had sent messengers out to the nearby villages. Their goal: to beat the Wildfire and save as many villages as they could."
"But, that is another story."
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"The King paused, sending off a prayer to the God Tyr. Next to him, the words of his men's prayer reached heavenwards for Tempus. The ground shook softly, but they dismissed it as the beast fighting back. Flame rose and licked at the walls as a quartet of four guards rushed forwards with the first steel barrel. Thy carried it gingerly, afraid of accidentally triggering it."
"'Ready?' Asked the King. When the four guardsmen nodded, and their spotter sounded the strike."
"The King gestured, and the group of four heaved the barrel over the side."
"'WILDFIRE.' Shouted the King as the rest of the guards in earshot ran quite the distance away.. However, a single battalion of trained and imbibed into you should keep you bot."
"'At least some of us are in agreement.' Muttered on of the Guards. The outside of their two-sided and needed to be replaced at the charged printer."
"But that was not all that he had tweak, ok, and The third one? Thats never good forced into a game or two fo tana
logger.log("We really should")
Throwing away the past for a moment, He threw his gaze upon the Captain. The King still was active quite strangely, as if aunafraid of ice. "It seemds.
And after all ths, they couldn't keep him caged.
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